


Welcome to the Freak Show, Amnesiac

by Grim Reaper Cultist (DeletedBecauseShy)



Series: The Estate Atop Malachite Hill [2]
Category: Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Amnesia, F/M, Female Pronouns for Grell Sutcliff, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28521555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeletedBecauseShy/pseuds/Grim%20Reaper%20Cultist
Summary: His feet continue to pad along the wooden floors slowly, stopping occasionally at paintings and photos. The same few, strange-looking people appear in most of them, four men and a woman. He can recognise her slightly from the snippets of memory his brain managed to store during the prior night. With blood-red hair and equally vibrant lipstick, she stands out among the other four.
Relationships: Alan Humphries/Eric Slingby, Ronald Knox/Grell Sutcliff
Series: The Estate Atop Malachite Hill [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083794
Kudos: 2





	Welcome to the Freak Show, Amnesiac

**Author's Note:**

> Do you need to read the previous instalment? 
> 
> No.  
> —  
> Should you?
> 
> Yes. It’s one of my favourite things I’ve ever wrote and the one I’m the most proud of by far

His eyes finally fluttered open as the purple-orange light of sunset poured in through the windows. Pink hues danced in his hair when he sat up, dull yellow tanned his pale skin. 

He lifted his arms out of the rigid confines of the comforter to reveal deep green, silk pyjamas that fluttered around his skin like the wings of a thousand butterflies in the small breeze emitted from the window. 

His mouth is dry and his lips crack and bleed when he yawns. The hand that goes to wipe at what he knew would be an open wound comes back clean. Already, his lip is healed fully. Still, his mouth is uncomfortably dry. 

He wanders around the twisting halls like a lost child, peeking through every door for a chance to see something he recognises. His head pounds in retaliation when he tries to remember the night before. Memories of red, waterfall-like hair fill the blank crevices in his mind. 

His feet continue to pad along the wooden floors slowly, stopping occasionally at paintings and photos. The same few, strange-looking people appear in most of them, four men and a woman. He can recognise her slightly from the snippets of memory his brain managed to store during the prior night. With blood-red hair and equally vibrant lipstick, she stands out among the other three. 

He continues to walk the empty halls. 

He passes offices and guest rooms, bathrooms and kitchens, but never any people. Eventually, his wanderings take him to a large, closed door. The dark wood is stained a reddish-brown and adorned with golden knobs and locks. Hesitantly, he pushes the door open. Inside, the table is lined with shining silverware and bronze candlesticks, polished glass chalices sit across from porcelain plates. All of it in front of 2 formally dressed men and the woman from his memories. 

“Well would you look at that, he’s alive.” The taller man speaks first, voice tinged with a thick accent. He rises from his chair in a quick motion to walk intently towards Ron. The man’s hand is calloused and strong around his own. “Name’s Eric. It’s a pleasure.” 

Besides him the other man stands from his chair to join them, leaving the woman to sit alone at the long table. His short stature brings him up to Eric’s chin, glowing green eyes equal with Ron’s own. The strange sight of neon eyes finally brings Ron to look at the others. He finally realised what had seemed so mysterious about the paintings lining the halls. Their eyes glowed with a phosphorus-like glint. Their eyes were all staring at him expectantly. “Oh. I-I’m Ron. Ronald Knox.” 

“Alan Humphries, it’s nice to meet you.” The younger man spoke quickly and directly, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “Please excuse our fellow...housemates. They were unable to join us, again.” He shook his hand gently before nudging him towards the third and final person in the room. 

Her hair was as vibrant as the pictures showed, flowing around her shoulders and pooling around her waist. “It’s a pleasure to finally get a good look at you, Darling.” Her voice was flirtatious and playful, daring him to approach. She had the same eyes as the others, a dangerous shade of green, a warning sign. “You looked delightful all splayed across the table last night. I can taste the blood on my tongue just thinking about it.” He assumes it must be a weird inside joke by the others’ nonchalant reactions. 

“You don’t need to share your eating habits, Red.” Even after hearing the man’s voice a second time, Ron couldn’t place the accent. Definitely northern, especially compared to Alan’s own more crisp, standard accent. 

“Oh, do forgive me. My name is Grell, I’m the lady of the house. I’m also the one who turned you, it was getting a bit lonely around here. Especially since Eric and Alan got together. I’m left with no one but Will and the Rat.” By then, Ron was practically in her lap. Her arms dancing around his neck without a hint of caution or hesitation. He ignores the ‘turning’ she mentions in favour of the apparent presence of a rodent. 

“The...the Rat? Like, a literal rat?” His voice was childish and confused. Wringing laughter from the other people in the room with unintentional ease. 

“Oh heaves no, my dear. Othello is just a bit...oh, how would you two put it?” 

“Small, curious.” Alan offered at the same time as Eric. 

“Rodent-like, probably a biohazard.” He smirked as he said it with his usual brutal honesty. 

“Yeah, that. Anyways, it’s so nice to have some company once again. I can’t wait to play with you some more. It’ll be plenty fun, I’m sure.” Ron backs away slightly when her tone turns sinister and her tongue briefly flick over unusually sharp teeth in her mouth in what he assumes is either a threat or a promise. 

Waking up with no memories, in a manor filled with strangers, nothing seems particularly new to him anymore. Again, he tries to remember the night before. Again, he comes up blank. 

He’s about to reply when the doors at the front of the room fly open, revealing two equally dishevelled figures. The first, with wild, green-tinted hair looks to have been on the receiving end of someone emptying an ashtray while the other, a man with slicked-back hair and a frown, has an array of blood droplets dripping down his head and neck, only barely missing his expensive-looking suit. 

The latter nods out at greeting to all for of them, mumbling something unintelligible in the process. Meanwhile, the former bounces towards Grell like a child’s toy. Grell, however, seems much more interested in the other gentleman. Her eyes are almost lustful when she looks at his blood-soaked face. “Oh, I’d love to devour you, Will. To lick each little drop of blood like honey. You’re positively delectable, darling.” 

Grell was rewarded for her efforts by Will walking past her, acting completely unaware of her presence. Will’s attention was turned towards Ron; his look brought a chill down the younger man’s spine. 

“Though I don’t understand Grell’s reasoning for turning another one, I hope we may get along in the future. Welcome to the Malachite Hill Estate.” Everyone nods in agreement, welcoming him into their strange home. 

“Yes, I agree with Will! It is a pleasure to meet you, Ron!” Othello had taken a seat on top of the long dining table, swinging his feet as he talked. “I must apologise for being late. ‘Fraid one of my little toys kinda-“ his hands move in a mock explosion; he makes the appropriate sound effects. 

“Oh, Olly. If you hadn’t tasted so sweet I really wouldn’t’ve let you through the doors. But, you were quite the treat. Of course, not as nice as Ronnie here. It was like nectar, his blood.” Both Eric and Will scrunch their nose at the accusation. Though, only Eric voices his thoughts. 

“I’ll be honest, I still don’t know how you can stomach that stuff, Red. It tastes like swallowing a handful of coins.” Eric is quick to add his own opinion, effectively changing the topic onto what Ron assumes is something to do with the inside joke from earlier

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. Last I checked, human flesh wasn’t exactly high in demand.” Alan casts an accusatory look towards Eric. 

Finally, Ron decides to interject, to find out what exactly was going on. “If someone could fill me in, that’d be great.” Immediately, all eyes turn to him, some with amusement and some with pity. 

“I said,” Grell starts again, “you’re blood was sweet. It’s a compliment, darling.” 

He looks at her, expecting it to all be an inside joke. But, when she pierces the skin on the back of her hand with teeth he had previously trying to ignore and begins to lick at the weeping blood, his face pales. 

“Ron, bud, why are you so confused?” Eric can barely stop laughing long enough to talk, “You didn’t have a problem blood or nothin’ before.” 

He can feel the blood drain from his face as the pieces click together. He thinks about the few details he can remember from before, how Grell had leaned over him with an abundance of red surrounding her, how their weird inside joke never actually caused anyone to laugh, how their eyes glowed an unnatural shade of green and he had yet to see a candle or lamp, how Grell’s teeth seemed too sharp to be human, how his lip had magically healed earlier in the morning, and how everything they had revealed to him was strangely shaped and fleshy.

He can only faintly remember entering the large manor the previous night. The rumours around town, though, he can remember. Mothers tell their children not to get to close to the estate grounds, to never pass through the large double doors. Fathers tell their children that the inhabitants will forgive the unforgivable, with a steep price. 

His voice is shaky and uncertain when he finally brings himself to talk once again. “You guys are...” he can’t bring himself to finish the thought, too shocked to form the words with his mouth. 

“Vampires, yes.” He doesn’t know how Will got behind him so quickly; or, how he can say it so calmly. “Do not worry. It is normal to be scared after one’s turning.” 

“You probably just need to feed, should I get someone for you?” Alan’s voice seems too calm for the situation. It’s almost enough to distract from what he has said previously, almost. 

“S-Someone?” He stutters out the idea, praying Alan means a chef and not a corpse. He knows he’s wrong when Alan gives him another pitying look, opting to let Eric explain the situation. 

“We have a few people left, not as many as we used to, numbers have been low recently. Don’t know if people are more cautious, or just less guilty.” He realises he had been ranting by then, switching back to what he was supposed to be explaining. “We have a young man, kinda lean; an old woman, fattier; one of them construction workers, pure muscle; and a woman, healthy mix. Who do you want?” 

Ron ignores the question aimed at him, more concerned with the situation as a whole. “Where did they come from?” 

Othello answers, “Where did you?” 

“From the town, from Spinersend. I- they weren’t residents were they?” They all give him a guilty, knowing look, answering the question without uttering a single word. 

Finally, Eric speaks up once again. “I’ll bring the woman if you don’t have a preference. How hungry are you?” It takes Eric asking directly for him to finally realise just how starved he is. Part of the sick feeling in his stomach reveals itself as hunger after prompting. 

“Starving. But, what do I do?” 

“Well, I’ll bring up the woman and you can decide what to eat. Obviously, you’ll want the heart but anything else is up to you. And don’t worry, she’s already dead, it was painless.” It wasn’t obvious, at least, not to Ron. Eric leaves the room with Will.

The situation still hadn’t settled with him by the time Will and Eric return with 5 plates and a wine glass. The younger of the two sets it all down in front of him. “We thought you wouldn’t want to see the actual body so we brought some pieces. We didn’t know your preferences either. So, think of it as a sample platter.” 

He doesn’t know where to start, not until Grell pushes the glass towards him with her long fingers. “This one’s my favourite. Just take a sip, dear.” 

He closes his eyes, trying to ignore the red liquid swirling in front of him when he picks it up and brings it to his lips. It tastes metallic on his tongue, like sucking on pure iron. Othello acts quick, pushing one of the plates forward to distract him, filling the room with meaningless chatter. “Not quite sure what piece this is, cut too small. But it should be an organ of some sort. Alan, what did you grab?” 

“Just some lung.” 

“Lungs! Great choice! Anyways, it’s a chewier piece, the best if you’re asking me. Just tear off a chunk and enjoy.” Once again, he finds himself doing what the strange red before him ask him to. He still doesn’t understand why. 

The small piece of meat he rips off is squishy between his fingers and oddly moist on his tongue. It’s far better than the blood had been but still not something he would actively enjoy. 

Then, there was the paper-thin sheet of what Alan assured him was the best part, skin. It was not the best part, it was just really bad. 

Will was next, handing him the plate of white mush. He knew it wasn’t something simple like mashed potatoes but it didn’t hurt to hope. Surprisingly, it wasn’t mashed potatoes; it was bone marrow. Pre-cooked, Will explained, and from his own personal stash. It wasn’t bad, though. It was buttery and savoury, pretty good in his opinion. 

But the best was Eric’s dish by far. Almost like the pork one might buy in the shops back in town, just off slightly. Sweeter, he thought and definitely softer than any meat he’d ever had. Flesh, it turned out, was his favourite part. Though, it’s possible it’s only because it’s only cooked item besides Will’s. 

5 small meals later, and he was finally full. The day’s news had finally begun to settle in the back of his mind. Only one mystery of the past day remained. He couldn’t seem to remember why it was he came to the mansion and made a deal with Grell in the first place...

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy me talking/writing about Ron, may I suggest my Tumblr. [Shinigami Dispatch Association ](https://shinigami-dispatch-association.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Love you ~<3


End file.
